The Friendgame
by Sir Sebastian
Summary: The campus of the Middleton Community College is living in fear, and Ron Stoppable is the only man who can put a stop to it. Will he step up to the challenge..? Oneshot.


A/N: I was supposed to get the sweaty-naughty-feelings-causing _Absentialuci_ to beta the fic, but she was busy, so instead I got the sweaty and naughty _Kwebs_. Still, thanks, dude.

**Disclaimer:** Characters used and abused in this fic are the product and property of people way smarter - and cooler - than I. I have my way with them for my own twisted amusement - and hopefully yours.

Kim Possible © Disney

* * *

**The Friendgame**

**_a.k.a._**

**How To Seduce a Stoppable**

≈O≈

Middleton, Colorado. A middle-sized community amidst The Rocky Mountains, not too far, and not too near the bigger cities. A place known for its populous of higher than average intelligenge, its frequent freakish occurences, and last but not least, as the hometown of Team Possible, the teen-aged crime fighting team often mislabeled as a duo. It was actually a quartet: many people forgot Ron Stoppable, owner and friend of Rufus, and Wade Load, the behind-the-scenes operator and brain behind the outfit.

The town was also a home to educational institutions of high esteem among the learned. They weren't as hyped and over-rated as some of their better known rivals, but anyone serious about their studies would have been amiss if they didn't consider the town's options. Even the Community College was considered a class above some the more expensive, elitist Universities. Middleton Community College, often simply referred to as MCC, was an open-minded, pleasant place of study.

Until recently.

For the past many weeks, if not months, MCC had lived in fear. Students were afraid to walk outside alone, and were always glancing around, as if waiting for someone or something to attack. The source of the fear was only talked about in hushed tones and timid whispers. Some even feared speaking its name, so they had dubbed it "Red Terror". They had seventeen reasons to be afraid: sixteen styles of kung-fu and the apparent eagerness to unleash them.

Everyone knew the cause. Well, everyone but the cause himself. He was blissfully oblivious - or just majorly in denial - of the terror he was responsible for.

Ron Stoppable had become the most hated man on campus.

≈O≈

As Monique strolled through the second floor hallway of Romano Hall – the girls' dorm on the MCC campus – the hall cleared quickly, and doors slammed shut all around her. Watching the hastily abandoned hallway, it was clear to her that this couldn't go on any longer - she had to act now.

She reached the door to her friend's room and gave it a couple of courtesy knocks. Without waiting for an answer, she walked in.

Kim Possible sat at her desk, nose in a book, foot tapping fast, surrounded by pencils snapped in half. As soon as Monique had stepped in, Kim whipped around, and snapped: "Who the he-" She stopped in half-sentence. "Oh, hi, Monique," she said in a more friendly tone, yet still clearly on edge.

"Hi, Kim. Whatcha up to?"

She cast a despondent glance at the books on her desk and sighed. "Trying to study."

"I take it's not going too great?"

"That's an understatement."

"Girl, you need a break. Come on, let's get out of here and grab a coffee at the mall."

"I don't think a break's going to help me."

Monique stepped up to Kim and grabbed her arm. "I wasn't asking," she said and dragged the reluctant redhead out of her chair.

"Mo'!"

"You're getting out of this room, and that's final."

Kim was barely able to grab her coat before Monique had dragged her through the door. They met no one on their way out of the building.

≈O≈

The two friends sat at a table in the food court of the Middleton Mall. Monique had a cup of coffee in front of her, and Kim – out of Monique's insistence – a cup of camomile tea. Still, she had trouble sitting still, and kept fidgeting on the chair.

"This tea is doing nothing for me. I need something to suck on," Kim said and went to the ice cream vendor nearby. A moment later she returned with a popsicle in hand.

Monique leaned in and posed the burning question. "Kim, what's been up with you the last few weeks? You've been super-"

"I know I've been a little irritable," Kim said and bit off the head of the popsicle. A few men who were unlucky enough to have been watching, winced.

"I was going to say bitchy, but I guess that works too. So, what gives?"

Kim hesitated for a second before coming forward. "It's Ron."

"Okay, what's the boy done now?" Monique demanded, not at all surprised by the answer.

"It's more like what he hasn't done."

"Uh-huh?"

Kim thought for a second how she should phrase her dilemma, finally ending up with the tried and true baseball analogy. "He's not playing ball. He has trouble going to first base, and I have to force him to second."

"So what you're saying is-"

"Monique, I'm horny!" Kim blurted.

Kim's rash proclamation turned heads around the court. Monique turned to the hopeful stares and gave them her patented "in your dreams" glare. Kim shrinked in her seat, glowing bright red.

"I think I'm beginning to get the picture," Monique said after she had turned back. "You have a craving for some kosher sausage," she grinned.

"Eww. Sounds dirty when you say it like that."

"But that's the gist of it, right? You want it."

"_So_ bad. I'm so frustrated I could explode," Kim explained.

"So what's the problem? Ron not getting the hints? You know you can't be subtle with him."

"Believe me, I've been anything but subtle."

Monique's eyes lit up and she leaned forward. "Do tell," she queried, voice full of lecherous curiousity.

"Not gonna happen, Mo'."

"Aww."

Kim gave her friend an annoyed glance, before leaning on the table and continuing her outburst. "I know he gets what I'm getting at when I'm coming on to him, but he always gets so uncomfortable, and tries to change the subject or makes up some lame excuse and tries to leave."

Monique was about to make a comment, but Kim continued. "And it's not even just about the sex. The sex is not the point. Well, not the _whole_ point, anyway."

"Then what is the point?"

"Other than the, um, naughty part, everything about me and Ron is perfect. We talk, we share, we're comfortable just hanging out or cuddling – and I do love the cuddling." Monique smiled at Kim, a wistful, slightly envious smile. "But, and this is going to sound so corny, I want us to share more than how our day was or what we're thinking. I want us to share ourselves, physically."

All the pieces were starting to fit, and from intimate and personal knowledge of Middleton's most known adolescents gathered during the course of the years she had known them, Monique formed a theory. "I may have an idea what's going on."

"You do?"

"Okay, stay with me here: before you two hooked up, how long had you been friends?"

"About twelve years, I think."

"And during those twelve years, how did you see him?"

"He was my friend, my best friend. And at times I even thought of him as the brother I always wanted."

Monique frowned in confusion. "What about Jim and Tim?"

"I said _wanted,_" Kim said wryly.

Monique smiled. "Okay, but you see him differently now, right?"

"Oh, yeah," Kim smiled and licked her popsicle.

"What if he hasn't gotten past seeing you as a friend, or worse, a sister?"

The word 'sister' hit Kim like a ton of bricks. After the kiss she and Ron had shared at the junior prom, she had fallen hard for him. So hard that there was no getting back up. And the thought of him forever seeing her as anything else but a woman...

"There must be something I can do!" Kim exclaimed, the panic evident in her eyes.

Monique put her hand on Kim's. "Relax, I have an idea."

"Really? What?" Kim asked hopefully.

"Costume play."

Kim knew Monique had a wild experimentative side, but she didn't think that would help her now. "I don't know," she voiced her apprehension. "Sounds kinda kinky."

"I'm not talking about dressing up like superheroes, which you two practically are anyway, I just meant dressing in a way that you usually wouldn't."

"How's that supposed to help?"

"The idea is to disassociate you from Kim the_ friend_, and associate you with Kim the_ woman_."

Kim mulled the suggestion over for a moment. To her, it all sounded like useless new age psychobabble, but it's not like she had anything better in mind. She gave in and let out a resigned sigh. "Okay, I'm listening."

"Whee!" Monique squealed in glee. "A makeover!"

"Okay, so let's say I manage to lure Ron to the dark side, how can I be sure he'll stay there?"

Without saying a word, Monique grabbed the half-eaten popsicle out of Kim's hand. The popsicle had begun to melt and dripped on Monique's fingers. She brought the frozen block of juice to her mouth, and slowly licked off the dripping, sticky liquid running down its surface. She licked her lips before wrapping them around the popsicle. The treatment the icy treat received drew many lusty looks. Even Kim was tantalized by the performance, getting all hot and bothered. Not too far, a man walked into a column, and another tripped over a fake ornamental tree. In the next table, a young man received a hard slap to the back of the head from his girlfriend. In one table, a middle-aged couple exchanged blushing glances. The popsicle melted quickly between Monique's hot chocolate lips.

She began cleaning her fingers by sucking on them one at a time. "Just – remind him – why he – crossed in the first place," she said between fingers.

≈O≈

The shopping trip was an eye-opening experience for Kim. The most daring thing she had ever worn was the infamous Little Black Dress, and even then she was under the effect of the Moodulator. Yet Monique kept dressing her in garments she wouldn't have expected to see outside the red light district. From corsets to tight leather and high heels, Kim went through them all. It didn't help that Monique insisted on photographing her in each outfit, but she claimed it was the only way to really see how one looked. Kim made her promise to delete the pictures afterward – well, more like threatened with serious bodily harm.

To Kim's infinite relief, they were finally able to decide on an outfit. It wasn't the most daring thing ever, but it was perfect for bringing out her best assets. She just hoped it was enough to get through to Ron.

≈O≈

Later that night, Ron sat on the couch in his dorm room with mounting anxiety. Kim had told him to clear his schedule and paid off his roommate to be anywhere else. Almost immediately after arriving, Kim told Ron to wait on the couch in the common room, and after dimming the lights (the dimmer had been Kim's idea, one of her earlier attempts at romance) retreated to the bathroom with the bags she was carrying. Ron had no idea what to expect, but by the sound of Kim's voice, it was going to be something special. Whether it was a good or a bad thing, he hadn't the faintest.

Then, finally, the door opened - and Ron swallowed.

With the backlight from the bathroom obscuring the details, all Ron could see was Kim's outline leaning against the door frame, clearly visible through the sheer white bathrobe - and what an outline it was! Ron's eyes journeyed across the Kimscape; he followed the long slender legs up to her bum, her magnificently feminine bum, and continued on up to her perky B's. Ron's lingering gaze rested there, easily outstaying his welcome had it been anyone else. When he raised his gaze to meet Kim's, a look of unadulterated desire greeted him, not helping him one bit with his anxiety.

Ron swallowed again.

"KP, what...?" he managed to get out.

"The pants," Kim said in a commanding tone. Ron glanced at his bottoms. "Drop 'em," came the order.

All this unexpected excitement was too much for the young man, and Ron just sat there silently, jaw hanging. Kim wasn't about to stand there idly, and began walking towards her boyfriend, with graceful, yet determined, strides. Though it only took a couple of steps in the small room, Ron was entranced. He gorged on the sight of her creamy white thighs emerging from behind the hems of the robe. Kim stopped right in front of the couch, and let the robe fall down, pooling at her feet. Ron's eyes bulged at the sight of the string bikini underneath. The scant triangular pieces of pale-blue cloth covering her strategic areas made Ron's saliva glands overload.

Kim watched Ron's reaction to the outfit with satisfaction. He was hers for the taking. She straddled her dazed boyfriend, and without delay kissed him aggressively.

Ron had no idea what was going on. He'd been ambushed with something right out of a letter to Penthouse. It would have been so easy for him to just give in and go with the flow – but something stopped him. That same something that had been slowing down their relationship heretofore.

Ron pulled away, took Kim by the shoulders and held her back.

"Stop. Just... stop," Ron said amidst his heavy breathing.

"What the H, Ron?"

"I can't do this."

"You'll do it and you'll like it."

"KP, I'm serious."

"And you think I'm not? We've been doing this dance for two years now – enough is enough."

"I just don't think I'm ready-"

"Spare me the 'I'm not ready' crap! You've been holding back, and I want to know why?"

Ron sighed. "If we do this... there's no going back. What if we end up ruining what we have?"

"Maybe we will. But if we don't take the chance, we'll never find out what could be."

"I-"

"Ron, look at me."

"I am."

"No, _look_ at me. Ron, I know we've known each other since we were kids, and you'll always be my best friend. But that's not all we are anymore. I want you to see me for what I am. As a woman. A woman who's in love with you and wants to share her mind, body, and soul with you. So far, we're only two out of three."

Ron was conflicted. On one hand, he loved Kim. Loved in every possible way: as a friend, as a woman, as a person as beautiful on the inside as she was on the outside. There was nothing that could have made him happier than to let himself drown in her.

Then there was the history they shared. History full of ups, downs, and a bond of love as strong as any bond of blood. The thought of risking all that terrified Ron.

Kim picked up on Ron's inner conflict playing clearly on his face. She took his head in her hands. "I get that you're afraid, I am, too. But I think we're worth the risk. Don't you?"

That simple question gave Ron pause. All his convoluted reasoning was called into question, and boiled down to one point: was it worth the risk? Even though deep down he already knew the answer, he sought confirmation from the deep greens looking at him, full of fearful expectation. He realized how much he loved looking into those eyes. He wanted to wake up to them – tomorrow, the day after that, and every morning after that.

_Yes_ - it was worth it.

Kim received her answer in the form of a deep kiss. And just like that, the game was on: Ron was already on first, preparing to steal second. In the small corner of her mind that was still operational, Kim reminded herself she owed Monique BIG. That was her last coherent thought as Ron continued showing his appreciation for her outfit with increasing vigor. That night, he appreciated the heck out of it!

≈O≈

News traveled fast. Before lunch the next day, everyone knew the beast had been tamed. All around the campus, in parks, in the halls, and even in lecture rooms, people rejoiced. The nightmare was over!

Kim and Ron made their way through the unusually crowded and mirthful campus, glued at the hip, hands in each other's backpockets. When they met up with Monique, Kim gave her grinning friend a long crushing hug. "Thank you, _so_ much," she whispered.

"You're welcome," Monique wheezed.

As the two friends pulled apart, Kim and Ron drew together as if they had consumed their weight in magnets.

"See, I told you it'd work," Monique said victoriously, admiring her handiwork.

"Well, it didn't go _exactly_ as planned, but hey, can't argue with results."

"What's this about a plan?" Ron asked, looking at the girls quizzically.

"Girl stuff," Kim giggled.

"Isn't it always," Ron complained.

When they were finally parting company, Monique surreptitiously handed Ron a memory stick. "For inspiration," she said.

The following morning, she found a voicemail from a tired-sounding Kim, left late the previous evening: "Monique, I don't know if I want to kiss you or kill you. What? Ron, not again.." _-Click-_

* * *

_The End_


End file.
